Skulls & Squirrels
by Booster
Summary: Feeling depressed by Berri's death, Conker realizes there could be a way to get her back: Gregg the Grim Reaper. Rated T for Gregg's swearing, as well as a bit of undead violence. Chapter 3 in!
1. Meeting Old Friends

**A Word from the Author**

Ok you guys!! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!

...Whew...Ok. Take it slowly...Good news is, my other computer is fixed and virus free! (Halleluia!) The bad news...Well, somehow I lost a whole bunch of my files to the virus or something, including Luigi's Mansion and Super Mario World...

Yeah. I know. I could just go and write it again. But while my net connections were down, I wrote all the way up to chapter 12...Now it's all gone, and I've lost all my gusto to rewrite all that. Until then, I'm working on other projects...Like this one!

For one, I don't own Conker or any of the characters or settings in this story. They belong to Rare, who have betrayed me by switching to Microsoft...They'll pay for it in the end, when they go bankrupt...That's right, Rare! You'll come crawling back to Nintendo, begging for forgiveness...Oh...Er, anyway...

Secondly, this'll be my first try at an original fic, not novelizing a plot to an exsisting game. So, in this case, I'm only going to update when I feel like it. Pressure makes me lose interest in writing. If I can't have fun writing, then I won't.

And finally, a big thanks to all my readers for their support on my other fics, and hopefully my future ones.

Well, I hope you all like this one!

-**_Booster_**

Skulls & Squirrels

Chapter 1: Meeting Old Friends

Conker was miserable. Simple as that.

He wasn't always this way. There had been a time when the red squirrel had lived happily. Back then, he had a small, but well-kept house, and he spent his days with his girlfriend, Berri, or making the occasional trip down the The Cock and Plucker for some good coversation with whoever was there (not to mention Conker liked alchohal).

That was before he woke up one morning with a terrible headache in a strange land of talking cogwheels, drunken scarecrows, angry pitchforks, and a tyrannical panther monarch.

Now, Berri was dead, and Conker was king of the bizzare country known as Windy. He wanted nothing to do with it, but he had sort of been forced there by those obnoxious critters that he had helped in his quest to return home. The rodent longed for his simple life again, to wander through woodland near his abode with Berri, or to get totally intoxicated at the bar, knowing all he'd have next morning was a hangover.

Conker was miserable.

On this particular afternoon, he sat in the huge throne room of the imposing castle, which loomed over Windy, the darkness of the pillared chamber reflecting his mood. Today, in particular, he thought of Berri. He missed her terribly, and partially blamed himself for her demise. He longed to see her beauty, he smile. Hear her laugh in that somewhat ditzy manner. For the past few nights, he had been plauged by nightmares of her lifeless body, drifting through the cold vacuum of space.

He needed someone to talk to, and not one of his so-called "subjects."

"Hey you. Guard," Conker called out into the shadows. A couple of helmeted weasels carrying pikes emerged.

"Yes, sire?" the taller of the two hissed.

Conker tipped his always loose crown back up onto his head. "Go get me...General Rodent. Yeah. Get him."

The weasel guards bowed and shuffled off. Conker sighed. Rodent had become his general after he had taken the reigns of the kingdom. If anything, the little guy was the only one of these idiots he actually liked...sort of. But it wasn't Rodent he wanted to talk to...

When he looked up again from his thoughts, Rodent stood before him, looking as comical as ever in his little shell of body armor and his huge glasses. "You called, your highness?" the nerdy grey squirrel said in that gratingly high voice of his, flicking his bushy tail about nervously.

"For one," Conker moaned. "don't call me that. Listen. I've been king for a couple of weeks now, yet no one's come to me and told me how Windy's doing. You know, problems and such."

Rodent looked quizzically at Conker "What are you getting at, Conker?" he asked.

"Isn't the king supposed to perform some administrative functions or something?" Conker answered.

"Oh. Well, not really," Rodent said. "You tell us what to do, we do it! That's how it worked in the past."

Now Conker was confused. "But...I'm king," he said slowly. "A king is supposed to take care of his country, right?"

Suddenly, Rodent burst out laughing. Conker watched as the other squirrel rolled about on the floor. "What's so funny?" Conker asked, annoyed.

Once the laughing had died down to chuckles, Rodent answered "I'm sorry, sir. It's just that that's a funny joke...King taking care of his country. Heeheehee!"

Conker shook his head. "Ok. Whatever," he said. "You just keep an eye on the place 'till I get back."

As Conker walked away, he heard Rodent's squeaky voice. "Where're you going, Conker?"

The red squirrel was quiet for a moment..."Out for a drink," he said at last, and stepped through the huge double-doors at the other end of the room.

That night was dark and rainy, just like the eavning when Conker had stumbled off into the darkness and into his current situation. Though it was foggy and cold outside, the atmosphere inside The Cock and Plucker was rather cozy, what with the lantern light and quiet jazz music performed by the weasel band. The forlorn squirrel sat at the bar, gulping down the last of his second scotch. It wasn't all that crowded tonight, with a few other rodents here and there and a gang of monks sitting in a shadowy corner.

Conker gave a heavy sigh, pushing the empty glass away. Already he was feeling the effects of the alchohal numbing his brain. He figured he should stop now, or who knows where he could end up the next day. Besides, his thoughts were still on his long-lost girlfriend...

The burly bartender came over. "D'ya want anythin' else?"

Conker hiccuped. "No thankyou," he said, slightly slurred. "I should probably quit while I'm still concious."

"Yeh always seem so down when'ervr I see ya," the bartender said, picking up Conker's glass and taking an old rag to it to clean it. "What's got yeh troubled, friend?"

"Well, it'sa long story," Conker muttered. He didn't much feel like describing his entire situation. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Yeh say that every time ye're here," the muscular squirrel said. "Woudln' it be best if'n yeh got it off yer chest? If yeh keep lettin' it stagnate, then it'll just come back t'ya even worse at some point in th' future."

He had a good point. Conker did want to tell somebody, even if it was just to make him feel better. He just wished he could put some of sorrows away for good. Maybe change something..."Well," he said. "alright. If ya think it'll help...Well, it all started when-"

"Conker?"

The bushy-tailed ruler nearly toppled out of his chair in surprise at the sound of the small, girlish voice. Turning around, Conker was greeted with the sight of two old friends: a nervous looking turtle, and a little mouse with yellow fur. His shocked face split into a smile.

"Pipsy! Tiptup!" he said happily, standing up and approaching them with open arms. "I haven't seen you guys in ages!"

The mouse named Pipsy jumped up with a joyful squeak and gave the squirrel a hug, which he returned. It had been a good number of years since he had seen them, the last time being when he had travelled to Timber Island to help battle a alien hog named Wizpig.

"We've been looking all over for you, Conker," Tiptup spoke in that somewhat uneasy voice of his. "Pipsy and I were in the neighborhood, and figured we'd look you up. A weird scarecrow tipped us off on where to find you." The turtle's eyes darted left and right, scanning the tavern's patrons.

Pipsy hopped up and down excitedly. "It's great to see you again, Conker!"

The bartender looked down at them. "Friends of yers, eh?"

"Yeah," Conker said. "Get'm whatever they want on me!"

Once the trio had all taken seats at the bar, drinks in hand (Tiptup got a bottle of Pond Scum ale, while Pipsy was given a lemonade), stories of what had happened recently started to pass around. Apparantly, Tiptup and Pipsy had been invited to the grand re-opening of Timber's racetracks, which were under the tiger's management since his parents had retired. On the way, they had both run into each other in Windy, and decided to see their old squirrel buddy. Only Conker remained silent, nodding and chuckling here and there.

"So, Conker," Tiptup said later on. "What have you been up to? How's Berri doing?"

Conker looked sullen and stared down at his feet. Realizing he had said aomething wrong, Tiptup tried to recover. "Well...did something...?"

"Berri's gone," Conker said, barely audiable over the music, and there was a little sniffle. The squirrel rested his head on the bartop, looking just about on the verge of tears.

There was a long pause. Eventually, Pipsy spoke up "I'm sorry, Conker...We didn't know-"

"No. It's alright." Conker kept staring off into space as he spoke. "I need to tell someone what happened. But I warn you...It ain't pretty."

So, Conker told them his story. They reacted in shock, of course, to several parts. Pipsy made several disgusted noises when the Great Mighty Poo was mentioned, and Tiptup shivered during the telling of the zombies. The red furred squirrel removed some bits of it, such as the sacrifice of the baby dinosaur, as not to upset Pipsy. And at several points, Conker would go quiet, doing this most often when describing what happened during the assault against the Tediz.

When he had finished, silence hung in the air around them, save for the background music. Conker took a long swig of his drink, then said "Well, here I am now. King Conker...Bleh." He belched loudly.

"That's...awful, old pal," Tiptup said, now looking throughly depressed. "And to think, you actually died several times."

"Hmm?" Conker took a look at his terrapin friend. "What did you say? About me dying?"

Tiptup gulped. "Er...Well, you said yourself you met the grim reaper, and that he said squirrels have several lives. That must've been real scary!"

An idea was forming in Conker's half-blurred mind. Gregg had said that squirrels have extra lives. But, if that was true...

Conker was suddenly grinning from ear-to-furry ear. "I think I might know a way I can save Berri!" he said, unable to contain his sudden excitement. He jumped up, started to charge out the door, then stopped, turning back to his friends. "Thanks, you guys!" he called. "You're true blue mates!" And then, he was gone.

The two animals stared out the door after him, mouths hanging open. The squirrel barkeep came over and looked out into the rain as well.

"So, which one of yeh is payin' for 'im?" the big creature asked.

Alright! There you have it! Believe me, things get a lot wackier in the next chapter...A Deal with Death!

Until then, your reveiws are appreciated!


	2. A Deal with Death

**Chapter 2: A Deal with Death**

Digging around in the dumpster was a nightly duty for the ally cat. Usually, there was bound to be something tasty within. Perhaps an old fish-head, or some rotton vegetables. Sure, it wasn't the tastiest meal a cat could have. But it's better then nothing.

The unsuspecting brown feline had just found tonight's lucky treat: a moldy tuna sandwich. Mewing with contentment, the cat sank it's teeth into it's dinner, sadly unaware of the cruel fate that awaited. Indeed, while the hungry animal crouched atop the metal dumpster, Death loomed ever closer, ready to cut the creature's life short with one fell swing...

"Ah bugger!" Gregg cried, as the stack of pricariously stacked crates wobbled and collapsed to the ground, taking the short skeleton with it. The crash brought the cat back to attention, and it lept off of it's perch and scampered off down the allyway. The grim reaper managed to untagle his robes from his scythe just in time to see his prize dart away. "Yeah! Go on!" he shouted after it. "You can run, but you can't hide forever, little prick!"

Hearing someone laughing behind him, Gregg stood up and turned around. Coming toward him through rain was a familiar red squirrel, wearing a lopsided crown and a cheeky grin.

"Oh bloody hell. Not you again," the miniature Death moaned. "Sod off, will ya?"

This just produced another chuckle from Conker. "What sort of Grim Reaper has to climb onto a tower of boxes to get at someone?" the squirrel said.

"It's not my bloody fault I'm short!" Gregg spat irretably. "Now sod off! I'm very busy!"

Conker didn't plan on going anywhere until he got what he wanted. "Hold up! This is very important. I gotta talk to you."

Gregg put a bony hand to his skull and shook his head. "You're not gonna leave, are you?" he said. Conker nodded. "Well, whatever it is you're going to ask, make it quick."

The squirrel did so. "Ok. When I died, you told me that squirrels are like cats. We have multiple lives, right?"

The robed skeleton tapped his foot impatiantly as he leaned on on his scythe. "Yes! Is that all?"

"I haven't gotten to the point yet," Conker said. "Now, if that's the case with me, it should also be the same with Berri, my girlfriend. Which means you could bring her back, right?"

Gregg looked thoughtful for a second. "Hmm," he said aloud. "I suppose I could...But what's in it for me?"

Conker had expected this. "Well...I have money," the rodent said hopefully.

Mr. Death laughed suddenly. "You offer me mortal cash? You're bloody thick! Look at me!" He spun around in a circle. "I'm the friggin' Grim Reaper! What use would I have for your money? None! Your stupid moolah won't matter none in the underworld!" Gregg sneered. "Try again!"

So much for that idea, Conker thought. Now the squirrel was stumped. What else could he offer?

Then, out of the blue, he had an idea. "You could have the old family estate!"

If Gregg had had eyes in his sockets, they would have gone wide right then. "What was that?" the skeleton said. "Are you talking about Batula Manor? Do you mean to tell me you'll give me the whole bloody house and grounds!?"

"Yep," Conker said, folding his arms and grinning. He had him!

"I've always wanted to own a lovely place like that," said Gregg in a far-off voice. "The creepy landscape, the gothic style, and imagine what I could do with the upstairs...Ahem. Well now," He snapped back into his usual manner. "tell you what, mate. If you give me the place, as well as help me move in, I'll see what I can do about your girlfriend. Well?"

"You've got yourself a deal, reaper man," Conker said happily. That was simpler then he had thought. All he had to do now was help the old bag of bones get settled in, and soon he'd see Berri again.

"Right then," said Gregg. "I'll go get packing. As for you, meet me tomarrow night, in front of the cemetary gates...You took care of all those pesky undead, right? I'm not gonna want the house if there are any bloody undead left."

"Don't worry," Conker said. "Got 'em all right through the head. You won't have to worry about them."

Gregg looked up at the sky, watching the clouds grow ever thicker. The rain started falling a lot harder by that point, soaking both he and the rodent.

"My robes are gonna be a bloody mess after this," the reaper muttered. "Anyway, remember. Tomarrow night. Cemetary gate. Got that? Good. Now sod off."

Conker watched as Gregg shuffled off through the downpour, vanishing into the shadows beyond his veiw. Shrugging to himself, the furry king turned around and started heading back toward the castle. Soon, everything would change for the better. All he had to do now was wait...

Tada! Chapter 2! Be happy, because I'm in a writing mood. It won't be long now until I get chapter 3 finished...Moving In!

Once again, I appreciate reveiws, so please give me them!

_**-Booster**_


	3. Moving In!

Chapter 3: Moving In!

The next day came and went without much event. Everyone who saw Conker couldn't understand why he seemed so giddy (though many guessed he had snuck a few drinks). For Conker, anticipation was building. He was considering what he'd do when he saw his beloved Berri again. The thought of proposing to her came to mind, and he heavily considered it.

As the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, the red woodland creature headed off to where he remembered the cemetery was. By the time he arrived at the all-to-familiar spot, the last bits of twilight were then vanishing. Conker sat down in front of one of the imposing gate doors, resting his back against it. The sound of the water running down the hill below creeped him out slightly. It wasn't that long ago he'd fought his way through bands of zombie squirrels. This whole area still made him tense, and Conker hoped Gregg would show up soon.

An hour passed. Then two. Then three. The full moon had just appeared in the clear sky, causing distant howls from far away. Conker shivered. He was getting really nervous, and all sorts of bad premonitions were creeping into his conscience at that point. Perhaps he had shown up too early.

"Ah! There you are!"

The squirrel nearly wet himself in surprise. Gregg was making his way up the wooden walkway that lead to the gates, looking as annoyed as ever. One hand held the trusty scythe as usual, while the other carried a purple carpetbag.

"Took me longer then I thought to pack," the small reaper said. "Do you know how bloody much stuff I have? It's bloody unbelievable!"

Conker eyed the single carpetbag. "That's all?"

"That's all?" Gregg shouted, and Conker cringed slightly. "I'll have you know this bag contains all of my items!"

The squirrel decided to drop the conversation there. He looked up at past the gate toward the house on the hill, now silhouetted by the moon. "Well," Conker said. "Let's get going."

The reaper nodded, and the two started through the quiet graveyard. The only sounds were the wind and the distant howling. Conker kept imagining that something was going to jump out any moment, but the tombstones stood silent as ever.

As they went, Gregg spoke up. "I found your lady's soul record while I was packing up. As it turns out, she had one extra life, which means it'll be perfectly legal and dandy to get her back. In the meantime, you'll have to help me get things set."

Conker nodded. Up ahead, the path became a narrow road that wound up toward the dark manor on the hilltop, looking rather sinister in the moonlight.

After climbing the road up, they entered the grand hall of the house. Gregg paused in the doorway, taking in his new home. "Well, waddaya think?" Conker asked.

Gregg had a hand on his bony chin. "It's nice," he whispered. "Could use maybe some curtains there, and I'll have to take that painting down." The skeleton was referring to the gigantic portrait of a vampiric squirrel at the top of the dusty stairs. "Other then that, I bloody love the place!"

With that, Gregg snapped his fingers, and the carpetbag snapped open. A small blast of fire issued from the mouth of the bag, dissipating into foul smoke that smelled of brimstone. "Right right," the hooded creature muttered, rummaging around until he produced an ancient looking scroll. "Ok. To seal the deal, sign here." A feather quill appeared in the air in front of Conker with a puff of smoke.

Conker studied it, realizing it was the deed to the house, written some three-hundred-years ago by Batula. Taking the quill, the rodent wrote his name on the dotted line, and the deed vanished into thin air. "There we go," Gregg said. "So, now you give me a hand with this bloody stuff. I want his place looking nice!"

"Really. Well, ok then," Conker said. How bad could the contents of one small bag be?

As he thought this, Gregg let go of his scythe (which stood upright and still somehow) and dug both arms into the bag. With a grunt, the reaper pulled a wide-screen television out of the tiny space, defying all laws of physics.

Seeing the squirrel's expression, Gregg chuckled. "And there's more where that came from, mate."

For the remainder of the early eavning hours, Conker helped set up the quantities of bizarre articles (some of which he would never speak of afterward) Mr. Death owned. And all the while, the miniature creep directed him on where to put things, constantly pulling something from his tiny bag. This went on for each new room they came to as they wandered the eerie house. Conker only remembered too well what scary things had happened here, ranging from vampires to walking corpses.

At some point, shortly after midnight, they came to the library. Shelf-after-shelf, wall-after-wall of cobweb covered books surrounded the squirrel on all sides. It was a little intimidating, all of that reading material...He couldn't think why.

Gregg shuffled about, pausing here and there to decide where he wanted a wall fixture or a comfy chair. He seemed interested in the many novels that lined the shelves.

"Well, I won't be bored for a while," said Gregg, as he examined a book titled _The Rainy Day Book for Bloody Torture Methods._

Conker, who was also exploring the vast rows of vampiric volumes, replied "This stuff was definantly written with you in mind."

"Well, let's get started with this room," the skeleton said, and he opened his bag once again, pulling out a ornate fish tank, complete with skeletal fish swimming inside.

Distractedly, Conker randomly pulled intriguing titles from the shelves and thumbed through them. Batula had oddly diverse tastes for a vampire, with books on various sciences, philosophies, art, and even the occasional gourmet cookbook. It must have taken years to amass all this stuff, the squirrel thought. The count must have inherited them from previous owners of the manor.

"Oy! Quite pissing around and get decorating," Gregg bellowed, tapping his bony foot impatiently. "We still have loads more rooms to go!"

Grumbling, Conker put the thick book he was holding back into its shelf space, accidentally knocking an ancient, wood-bound volume loose as he did so. It landed with a dull thud on the stone floor, sending a bit of dust fluttering up from between its pages. Curious, Conker picked it up (it was surprisingly light), and read the title: _Tales of The Desert_. Below the weathered yellow print, a relief of a desert scene, pyramid and all, was carved into the mahogany cover.

"Fancy," said Conker to himself. He wasn't the best judge on value, but he imagined some book collector somewhere would pay quite a bit for something like this. He made a mental note to remember this particular book before sliding the tome back into the empty space it had fallen from.

_Click._

The rodent heard, as well as felt, the book press into something. A slight grinding noise came, and Conker stepped back cautiously, just as the shelf swung forward like a door, revealing a small, rough stoned space behind, about the size of a broom closet. A set of stairs led downward into the floor, under the wall and out of sight.

_Aha! A secret passage_, thought Conker. _No haunted house is complete without one._ Peering down the stairway, Conker saw nothing but gloomy darkness. Curious, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure Gregg wasn't watching him, then tip-toed down the wet stones and into the dark.

The squirrel had to hold his hands out in front of him as he descended. It was pitch dark, and the air felt damp and slimy. It occurred to Conker that he should probably have grabbed some source of illumination before coming down. As he fumbled about, his tail brushed against something that didn't feel like cold stone. He turned around and felt along the wall until he found the unusual protrusion. It was long and wooden, and poked out of a metallic square in the stone. A switch, he deduced.

Without thinking of what dire consequences could be triggered, Conker pulled the lever down, which came surprisingly easy. Around him, previously unseen torch sconces flared to life, revealing that he had reached the bottom of the stairs.

The now-lit chamber before him looked like a haphazard mix of storage room, wine cellar, and museum rolled in one. Two rows of three granite pillars ran across the room, supporting the dripping ceiling. Dusty barrels stood stacked against the walls, each with a name and year written across them in pitch. Around them were random arrangements of crates and boxes, apparently left unopened for ages. Some of these had bizarre artifacts and antiques stacked on and around them. Jars, pendants, bowls, statues, books and many other articles. From the look of them, Conker guessed they had come from Egypt. _How odd,_ he thought. _Who knew the old vampire was into this sort of thing._

Conker slowly meandered through the area, grabbing a few of the golden objects and putting in his jacket. Gregg would never miss them.

Suddenly, the king's eyes were drawn to an amazing display at the far end of the room. Unlike everything else, which came off as a random mishmash of objects, this looked lovingly set up. Set into a small space in the wall, flanked by two statuesque torches each depicting a cat holding the basin on its back, was a golden sarcophagus. It appeared to have been untouched by time, and was beautifully shaped into a cat's face. The eyes on the cat flickered eerily in the torchlight. The rest of the coffin was covered in hieroglyphics.

"Wow," Conker said aloud, looking the thing over. It had to be centuries old. The craftsmanship on it was better then anything he'd seen in this shoddy kingdom. Mesmerized by it, the squirrel reached out slowly to touch the lid, the surface reflecting his own awed face back at him.

No sooner had his fingers made contact with the sarcophagus that a muffled, feral growl issued from inside.

Gregg had finally found a lovely place for his torture rack near the back of the library. The skeleton suddenly realized it had grown rather quiet. Where was that smart-mouthed squirrel? He was supposed to be helping.

"Conker! What the f#$! are you doing?" he called, raising a bony hand to his chin. "Get over here now, or no deal!"

A startled yelp and the sound of hurried footsteps answered this. Setting his carpetbag down, Gregg leaned around an obscuring bookshelf just in time to see Conker slamming what appeared to be a secret panel closed. The rodent pressed his back against the panel, which had been disguised by shelves built onto it. Behind him, the panel shook violently, as some force from within slammed against the other side.

Impatiently, the little reaper said "Where the hell have you been?"

"Um, can we talk about this later?" Conker stuttered. "We have a bit of a problem."

Again, the panel was shoved from behind. It opened just enough for a massive paw, covered with dusty bandages, to poke through, swiping madly at the air, trying to open the door. A wailing screech could be heard right behind it.

**Oh my goodness! It's a chapter!**

**Seriously, guys. Sorry about the delay. Real life can do that, y'know? Anyway, thank you all for your positive reviews. I'm surprised the story is as popular as it is.**

**Anyway, I can't seem to find a way to add those little symbols to show when I change a scene. Every time I add them and edit, they keep disappearing. Until I figure out why, it's gonna look a little broken. **

**I apologize for leaving you all at a cliffhanger, but that's how it goes. Keep your eyes open for the next chapter…The Cat Came Back!**

_**-Booster**_


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